


Atlas: Enneagram (Song Fic Collection)

by bethanyisinjail



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Album: Atlas: Enneagram (Sleeping at Last), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Depression, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Insecurity, Love, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Song Lyrics, Song fic, Spoilers, added in honor of saerans, aka yoosung, aka zen, but more angst than fluff, for pretty much every route natrually, there's 8 of them i have to impulsively write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethanyisinjail/pseuds/bethanyisinjail
Summary: A collection of song-based oneshots (or multiple shots, who knows) for all the RFA + Saeran and Rika (no Vanderwood sorry) based on which enneagram type I characterized them as! All the songs used are from Atlas: Enneagram by Sleeping at Last.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, Choi Saeran/Main Character, Han Jumin/Main Character, Kang Jaehee/Main Character (Mystic Messenger), Kim Yoosung/Main Character, Rika/V | Kim Jihyun, V | Kim Jihyun/Main Character, Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Zen - "Three"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! this is my first time doing a fic like this, so bear with me as i write way too much for each set of lines haha. i used Sleeping at Last's enneagram songs (which i highly recommend, along with all their music really) for each character. some of the types i'm super confident in (prime example zen right here) but others i'm still a lil unsure about. yolo i'll make it work
> 
> enjoy!

_Maybe I've done enough, / And your golden child grew up._

“Give me that mirror!” She screams, snatching the mirror out of his hands, “Only pretty people can admire themselves, Hyun.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” He whispers.

She points a finger towards the kitchen, “Get in there and study! You know what I expect!”

Head down, he shuffles into the kitchen, hopping into a chair and staring at the work he doesn’t understand. He can hear his mother cursing at him from the other room.

Every word stings worse than the last.

_Maybe this trophy isn't real love / And with or without it, I'm good enough._

He runs out onto the stage, linking hands with his fellow star, throwing their hands up in the air before bowing. The claps fill the stadium, cheers wrapping him in a false sense of achievement.

But he knows it’s not real. The cheers aren’t for him.

They can’t be. 

_Maybe I've done enough, / Finally catching up._

He’s dripping in sweat, every inch of his body screaming to take a break. To go home. 

“Take 5 minutes,” The director groans, waving off the cast standing on stage.

Zen walks off through the wing into the green room, glancing at the clock. 

Rehearsal hour 12.

3 more to go. He can do this.

He has to.

_For the first time I see an image of my brokenness / Utterly worthy of love._

He rubs his eyes, wiping away frustrated tears from today’s rehearsal. He pushes off from the bathroom stall he’s leaning against, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He stops and leans closer, seeing his disheveled image staring back. His face is beat red, the difference between sweat and tears unidentifiable. He brings a shaking hand up in front of his face, small scratches littering the back of it from the prop work they were doing. 

He looks back up in shock at his own reflection.

Suddenly, he realizes he’s forgotten who he is.

_Maybe I've done enough._

The man in front of him extends his hand, “We’d love to sign you for this musical, I believe you would play the role perfectly.”

Zen smiles, shaking the man’s hand. “Thank you so much, sir.”

The man draws his hand back and slides a piece of paper across the table, a pen on top. He points at a line at the bottom, “I just need you to sign right here, I’m sure you’ve signed your fair share of musical contracts and know the drill.”

Zen forces a small laugh in response, grabbing the pen and slowly signing his name on the piece of paper covered in the same words he’s read in a million different forms. 

He’s happy to be on another musical, doing something he loves. But he knows he’s signing himself away, giving them every right to use his time and energy like a robot. Yet he still does it.

It’s bittersweet. 

_I finally see myself, / Through the eyes of no one else._

‘You can always get by when you have stunning looks like I do!’ He types, a faint smile on his face.

‘Oh come on Zen!’

‘Lolol always with the beautiful face comments’

‘I do not understand how someone could be so vain.’

‘Wow Jumin;;’

‘Zen can be a small bit narcissistic sometimes;’

His smile fades as he sees his friends’ reactions. His attention diverts from the chatroom, letting his phone slip out of his hands and fall onto the bed.

He knows they don’t understand. He knows they have no idea the only love he was ever truly given was from himself. He knows they don’t really mean it.

But it still hurts.

_It's so exhausting on this silver screen / Where I play the role of anyone but me._

He reads the character description, legs dangling off the stage as his costars do the same.

‘Hector Silverman: King of Auria. He was born with a silver spoon, handed control by his wealthy and powerful father. He delivers all of his commands with complete confidence and never lets fear control him. He rejects the affection of others, looking down on the expression of emotions and feelings. He has a wonderful disposition, always seeking better ways to lead him and his team to victory.’

Another role he has to fit. One characterizing the exact type of person he always despises. This role is going to be challenging. 

Time to become another persona. 

_I finally see myself, / Unabridged and overwhelmed, / A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell,_

He leans back, resting on the back of the stage, lights blinding him from being able to see the theatre seating in front of him.

“So,” The actor begins talking next to him, “Zen, how’d you get into this business? You’re really good for being only 22.”

“Eh, it’s a long story,” He brushes off the question.

The actor rolls his eyes, looking back toward the front of the stage, “The best actors always have the hardest stories. Can I give you some advice?”

Zen raises an eyebrow, but agrees anyway, “Sure, I guess. Can’t hurt.”

The actor continues to look forward, “Don’t be ashamed of where you came from. You probably made a lot of sacrifices, but look at where you’re at. Living the life you likely dreamed of as a kid.”

Zen simply nods, gaze falling away from the face beside him.

Maybe he’s right.

_But I'm slowly learning how to break this spell. / And I finally see myself._

‘No, I dropped out in middle school.’ He types back to Yoosung and Jumin.

Jumin sends back: ‘That’s extremely irresponsible. Education is important to success.’

But Zen doesn’t back down, ‘I think I’m pretty successful, for not having this stupid key to success you talk about.’

‘You should not flaunt this.’

‘I’m not’ He types back, ‘I’m proud of where I came from! And no silver spoon CEO-in-line is gonna take that away.’

‘I agree with Zen!’ Yoosung sends, ‘Jumin, don’t be so harsh!’

For the first time in a long time, he feels a weight lift from his shoulder. A feeling of pride replacing it. 

Pride in a story he’s hated for so long. 

_Now I only want what's real / To let my heart feel what it feels._

He walks in the door, quickly shutting it behind him. He scans the room as he looks for your face, one he’s been so eagerly waiting to see once again. Finally, his eyes land on you, in a beautiful purple dress, gold accents line the sleeves and waistline. Standing beside you is Jaehee, whose eye catches Zen standing at the door. She points to him, saying something to you beside her. Suddenly, you turn to him excitedly, running towards him with your arms outstretched. 

He pulls you into a huge hug, spinning you around as you hold onto him. He stops and you step back, cupping his face in your hands.

“I’m so happy to see you, Zen.”

His whole body seems to warm at your touch, heart skipping a beat at your words. He wishes you could talk forever, continuing to hold him as you are now. 

But for now, he chooses to marvel at the wonderful moment in the present.

_Gold, silver or bronze hold no value here, / Where work and rest are equally revered._

He shuts the door behind him, seeing you sitting with your feet up on the couch. You look over at him and smile.

“Welcome home, honey!” You greet, holding your hands out for him to join you.

He drops his bag, taking a seat next to you. “I’m all gross from practice babe,” He pleads. 

“When has that ever stopped me?” You wrap your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. He’s oddly tense. “Rough day?”

“A little,” He admits, causing you to lean over and place your head on his chest, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around you. 

You look up at him and smile, “You don’t have to tell me now. You know I love you, right? No matter what!”

He looks down at you, a small smile spreading across his face.

“I love you too, babe.”

_I only want what's real_

Music plays from the speaker on the counter as you crack another egg into the bowl of ingredients in front of you. You hear Zen singing along softly in the background, working on something on the counter behind you.

Suddenly, you feel arms wrap around your waist, a head resting on yours.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You smile, eyes straining to see the face above you.

“Mmm,” He lazily replies, “I just wanna hold you, for a moment.”

You put the whisk down and wrap your arms around his, leaning into his touch. 

You both stand there, the soft music fading into the background as he grounds himself on your breathing.

Words can’t express how much he loves you.

_I set aside the highlight reel, / And leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk; / Worthy of love anyway._

He walks down off the stage, wiping away sweat with a towel draped over his neck. He heads to you, sitting a couple of rows back with the most loving smile on your face. 

You get up and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“That run was really rough,” He sighs, still smiling down at you. 

“Mmm, I thought it was wonderful! As long as your up there, everything you do makes me love you more and more.” You give him another kiss. 

He puts his hand behind your head, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Even the mistakes, babe?”

“Especially the mistakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started with zen bc i felt he was gonna be the easiest (looking at the rest, i think he'll stay there).
> 
> next up,, who knows! we'll have to see who i decide to have a raging passion to write for lmao. till next time!


	2. V - "Nine"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> v's turn! this has MAJOR spoilers for another story AND v's after ending (specifically the forgive one i believe?) (and you kind of need to have played another story for context but not really? most of it you can get without having played it if you don't care about spoilers).
> 
> some context things if you've never played another story but don't care abt spoilers: his mother was deaf, and spilt from his father when he was younger so he never really established a relationship with her until later. his mother later died in a housefire protecting him from a falling chandelier. rika stabs him lowkey when they're in the middle of the woods. after mint eye blew up at the end of v's route, v had found him and taken saeran somewhere far to recover from, you know, almost exploding and being inducted into a cult for years. they then both went back a couple years later to show up at the party. 
> 
> !! slight tw i guess? but this discusses a lot of v's story (which we know is really rough) so there is a scene from after he was in the housefire and one from right after he was stabbed, just so you're prepared! it's nothing too graphic, but the subject can be a lil touchy and i want everyone to be safe!
> 
> if you still want to march on, enjoy!!

_Who am I / To say what any of this means- / I have been sleepwalking / Since I was fourteen_

“The arts are nothing but a hobby, one that foolish people chose to try to turn into careers,” He lies through his teeth, “I would never go down that path. Abstract thought is saved until after success.”

“Jihyun,” Jumin pauses, “You believe emotions fall under that as well? You have simply come to terms with disregarding abstract feeling?”

He nods, drumming his fingers on the desk, “You don’t agree?”

“Of course I do,” Jumin replies, raising an eyebrow, “Just not for you, however.”

He simply shrugs, knowing Jumin sees right through his cold facade. 

In truth, he admires those with confidence for such expression.

_Now as I write my song / I retrace my steps_

“Talk slower, Jihyun,” His mother slurs, “I cannot understand you at that speed.”

“Sorry, Mother,” He apologizes, “I asked why you chose to pursue art?”

She keeps her gaze locked on his lips for a moment, before smiling and looking up to meet his eyes. “I loved doing it, Jihyun,” His name seems to roll off her tongue, “It was a passion of mine.”

He cocks her head at her, “That you turned into a career?”

She takes a moment to process what he said. “Yes, and it made me happy for such a long time,” Her words are slow as she struggles to articulate them, “I see the same passion in you, Jihyun.”

He gives her the smallest smile, shaking his head.

“I can’t, Mother.”

_Honestly, it's easier / To let myself forget_

He’s strapped to a stretcher, ice and bandages litter his body. He can’t stop crying, the image of his burning mother plastered in his brain as he’s loaded into the ambulance.

“No! No!” He screams, unable to take in any more air into his weakened lungs, “I can’t leave her!”

A paramedic appears over him, holding a mask in her hands. She lifts his head and puts it over his mouth, and he immediately feels air begin to fill his lungs.

But the mask feels so constricting.

“Nononono!” He struggles, trying to somehow break the snaps on the stretcher to take it off.

“Son,” He turns his head to see another paramedic on the other side, holding a needle in his hand, “You need to calm down. This’ll help.”

As much as he shakes his head in protest, he still feels the needle enter his arm.

As the world begins to melt away, all he can see is his mother.

In flames.

Lifeless.

_Still, I check my vital signs / Choked up, I realize / I've been less than half myself / For more than half my life_

He reaches into his bag, pulling out the piece of paper he assumed to be his math homework. 

It was a drawing

His drawing.

He holds the torn drawing in his hands, noticing a droplet of water fall onto the page. 

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, holding the picture to his chest. The one his mother was so proud of, that tore a hole in their relationship. 

One he would never get the chance to repair. 

_Wake up / Fall in love again / Wage war on gravity_

She takes a seat in the chair across from him. 

“Nice to see you, Rika,” He smiles, adoring the beaming smile plastered on her face. 

“You too, V!” She excitedly replies, grabbing his hands that are resting on the table.

Her touch is perfection, the perfect balance between controlling and soft. It feels like art.

He knows he wants to preserve that touch like a photograph.

Just for him.

_There's so much / Worth fighting for / You'll see_

She stood among a flurry of people, like a still frame in a movie. A clipboard in her hand, her eyes scanned the room, accounting for every guest. He gets lost in her presence. Blinded by her beauty like the sun.

He’s dragged back to reality when her hand grabs his, dragging him up on stage. “Come on, V!”

He trails behind her, rushing onto the stage before letting go of her hand as he heads to his chair at the back of the stage. He takes the couple sheets of paper off of it and places them in his lap, before looking over at Jumin who gives him a small affirming nod. 

With that, he looks back forward, admiring the crowd in the room.

Rika taps on the microphone at the podium in front of her, drawing the crowd’s attention. She delicately places her hands on the sides of the podium. 

“Welcome everyone, to the first-ever Rika’s Fundraising Association charity party!”

_Another domino falls / Either way_

He gazes at the boy sitting in the garden, delicately holding a red rose between his fingers. He turns around excitedly, arms outstretched to show V the rose.

“Look V! Isn’t it beautiful?” He exclaims. V crouches down to get a better look, drawing a soft finger across the top.

“It’s a lovely flower, Saeran,” He remarks, looking up at the boy beaming in front of him, “But be careful of the thorns. They look pretty, but they can hurt!”

“I know V,” He assures, bringing the flower up to his face, “I think Saeyoung would’ve loved it! He liked red a lot.”

V hums in response, taking in Saeran’s completely enthralled expression. He looks so content. So happy, sitting in a garden surrounded by flowers.

He hopes sadness never finds such a pure soul like Saeran’s. 

_It looks like empathy / To understand all sides_

“Tell me what’s wrong, Rika,” He pleads, moving closer to her.

She pushes him away, “No! I won’t! I won’t let you take me over!”

He jumps a little, taken aback at her comment. “I have no intent to-”

She stands up and begins to back away, tears already streaming down her face. “Yes, you do! You want to hurt me! You’re lying!” She pauses before making one last breathless call, “You’re lying.”

With that, she crumbles to the ground, a mess of tears and sobs. V walks over to her, taking a seat on the ground in front of her. He takes her hands away from her face and presses them between his own

“I will never do that.”

“You’re sure?” She quietly questions.

“You can test me, I will never waiver, my sun.”

_But I'm just trying to find myself / Through someone else's eyes_

“I don’t love you!” She bites back, hands flailing out to the side, knocking down a framed photo leaning against the wall. He flinches at the glass shattering as it hits the ground. 

“I love you so much-”

“Like the sun?” She mocks, “You’re trying to kill me! Kill my devil!”

He shakes his head in confusion, not understanding what she’s saying but disagreeing regardless.

“I want to show you my love Rika,” He whispers back, “Bask you in the light you so desperately deserve.”

“But I don’t want it!” She screams, “I don’t want it!”

“Then how do I prove my love to you, Rika?”

“Let me take your eyes, as you promised.”

_So show me what to do / To restart this heart of mine_

He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Yoosung,” He congratulates, but Yoosung doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t want your congratulations,” He mutters, pulling away from V’s hand and gripping the diploma even tighter. V lets his hand fall to his side, seeing Yoosung walk off towards Zen a small ways away from him. 

He feels responsible for his hurt, for the pain he’s trying to process right now. It would have made that boy’s life for Rika to be here right now.

Only if he had loved her more. 

_How do I forgive myself / For losing so much time?_

“I hate you! I hate you V!” Yoosung screams at him, catching the attention of a couple of the other RFA members.

He feels guilt flood over him. “I’m sorry,” He continues to repeat the same apology like a broken record. 

Zen grabs onto Yoosung as he attempts to throw himself forward at V. “You let her die! It’s all your fault!”

Zen begins to drag the boy away, “Come on, Yoosung, let’s go cool off.”

Jumin places a hand on V’s shoulder, “You don’t need to apologize for it all. It’s not your fault.”

He shakes his head, unable to meet Jumin’s eyes, “No, I should be, it’s the least I can do.”

Jumin takes a step back from his friend, V catching a glimpse of the slightly disappointed expression on Jumin’s face. 

“I can’t see you drown in this sorrow forever, V.”

He finally looks up at him, “Why?”

“Because I’m losing my friend.”

_Wake up / Roll up your sleeves / There's a chain reaction / In your heart_

He’s shocked by your sudden appearance in the chatroom, coming in mentioning Rika’s name without ever knowing her. 

But he feels responsible for you. To protect you and all the unconditional support you give him. It’s so foreign. 

His apologies are always countered. His confessions are always supported. His privacy is always valued. His mistakes are always met with calm guidance.

He realizes that you’re showing him a love different from Rika’s. He never knew that existed.

But he’s going to do everything he can to protect it.

_Muscle memory / Remembering who you are / Stand up_

He clips the cloak hood around his neck, pulling the hood up. He brushes off the black fabric covering his body, gold shining in the dim moonlight. He plays his steps in his head.

Believer A306. Hand the card. To the computer room. You’ll be there. Take you to safety.

He takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the authentication card in his hand. Finally, he musters the courage to approach the building. 

Someone meets him at the door. “I haven’t seen you around, Believer. What is your number?”

“A306,” He replies, just as he had practiced. He holds the card up for the hooded man in front of him.

“Ah, of course,” He opens the door and gestures inside, “Come right in.”

V bows his head before entering, heading down the center hall toward his destination.

He needs to save you from her. 

_Fall in love again and again and again / Wage war on gravity_

“Guards, take him away!” Rika screams, pointing at him with one hand and shielding you with the other. 

“Rika please,” He pleads, “Hurt me all you’d like, just let her go!”

“No! Stop telling me to hurt you!” She protests stamping her foot on the ground. He sees you jump at her words. His heart breaks for you, knowing you don’t deserve this. 

He is grabbed by three Believers but doesn’t resist their grip. He goes with them. Down to the prison under the Mint Eye.

He prays his sacrifice is enough to save you.

_There's so much / Worth fighting for / You'll see_

He writhes in pain, your hand delicately placed on his forehead. His body is dripping in sweat, feeling the drug he was given course through his veins, thick and heavy. 

“I’m right here, V,” You calmly remind him, “You’re going to be alright, we’re going to keep you safe.”

“MC,” He forces before you shush him, grabbing his hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it.

It grounds him. Keeps him aware that he’s still here. That you’re still here. 

That you’re both going to be alright. 

_Another domino falls_

“Argh!” He calls in pain, his head pounding.

You sit at his side, holding both his hands in yours. “You can’t do anything?” You ask desperately for what had to have been the 5th time. 

“There’s nothing we can do for the pain. Sorry,” Vanderwood shrugs, “He just has to go through the detox cold turkey.”

He squeezes your hands tighter, clearly fighting back the urge to scream again.

“Nothing?!” You plead once again.

“Nope, nothing. Did you forget, cabin, middle of the woods, hours from civilization, a cult?” Vanderwood lists, “I’m gonna leave you two to it, see what that parasite of a 707 is doing.” He walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You look back up at V, a smile painted on his face despite the pain you know he’s currently in.

You offer only a smile and a slight squeeze of his hand. But that’s all he needs.

He fights. For you.

_And another domino falls_

She runs off as he falls to the ground, legs weak as he clutches his violently bleeding abdomen. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t call for help.

He doesn’t have to.

You peek your head out the door, noticing him in a pool of blood on the cabin’s deck. You rush over to him, kneeling down in front of him. Your shaky hands take his arms away from the wound, seeing just how deep it is.

You look up to see his oddly calm face looking back at you, almost smiling. 

But you don’t question it.

“Seven! Seven! V’s been stabbed!”

_A little at a time / I feel more alive_

His slow, measured breathing fogs up the mask over, and over, and over. You count the seconds between breaths. 

In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3-

Your counting is interrupted by the smallest change in his breathing, followed by a small squeeze to your hand currently in his.

Your face lights up, seeing his eyes slowly flutter open. 

His gaze settles on your face, and his expression softens. “You’re here, MC.”

“Of course,” You breathe, your free hand moving to cup the side of his face. 

He leans into your hand, “I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy you’re alive, V.” Your smile captures him, but in a different way than Rika’s.

It’s love. Not obsession. 

_I let the scale tip and feel all of it / It's uncomfortable but right_

He shifts uncomfortably in the hospital bed, fiddling with the sheet under him. 

“I want to be a better man for you, I want to grow,” He confesses. 

You simply smile back, “And I’ll always be here.”

He looks down into his lap, “No matter how long it takes?”

“No matter how long it takes.”

_We were born to try / To see each other through_

“I want the surgery, Jumin,” He states, clearly confident in his choice.

Jumin lets out a small sigh of relief, “Of course, I’ll have only the best working on you. I’m glad you decided this, V.”

“I want to move on,” He admits, “I’m done hanging on Jumin, it’s only hurting me.”

“You remember I told you this, around 6 months ago?”

V laughs a little, “And I was stupid for not listening. MC shocked me back to my senses. Showing me all the people who care for me by caring for me herself.”

“And she brought my friend back,” Jumin comments, “I’ll have to give her my thanks.”

V pauses, looking off across the room before looking back to Jumin. “Why’d you stay with me?”

Jumin lets the smallest smile form on his face.

“Because I had faith in you, Jihyun.”

_To know and love ourselves and others well_

He points into the sky, looking over at the fragile boy next to him. “That one looks like a flower, I can’t pinpoint which kind, though.”

Saeran continues to stare at the sky, face painted by the midday sun. “Bird of Paradise,” He replies, “They symbolize joyfulness and exciting anticipation for something.”

V looks back up at the sky, watching the cloud float off away.

He hopes that the cloud makes its way to you. 

_Is the most difficult and meaningful / Work we'll ever do_

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” He says, causing you to turn around in confusion.

You’re met with his smiling face, adorned in several necklaces from wherever he has been for the past 2 years. You don’t say anything. All you can do is run over, wrapping your arms him and holding him as close as you can. 

He holds you back. “I missed you, MC,” He whispers, resting his head on your own. 

You hum in agreement, “I missed you too, V.”

“No no,” He softly protests, causing you to look up at him.

“Call me Jihyun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this angst was a LOT heavier than zen's but,,, of course it was it's v. v was one of 3 characters i struggled picking a type for, so i hope you see the parallels throughout the song to his character! who comes next, who knows? i'll probably randomly point at the paper i have and hope for the best.
> 
> till next time!


	3. Jumin - "One"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! i bring you one of the most challenging characters to emotionally characterize properly, jumin! this chapter took me FAR longer than i predicted because i kept getting stuck, and even now i'm not a huge fan of how it came out. i tried my best but jumin just took every rule i know about writing emotions and threw it out the window. hopefully this doesn't seem too ooc!
> 
> enjoy!!

_Hold on for a minute, 'cause I believe that we can fix this over time_

He heard his father arguing with his new woman in the other room as he put on his small suit jacket. He couldn’t make out the words, he didn’t care to.

Every woman his father brought into the house was gone within a couple of months. He learned to stop getting attached to them. He fastens the last button when he hears the door open behind him.

“Jumin,” His father calls, “Come now, we have to be there by 6, media is expecting to see your mother and me.” 

Jumin rolls his eyes out of sight of his father before turning around, being met by his once furious father now standing happily alongside that woman.

His ‘mother’.

“Make sure you show them how happy we are, Jumin.”

_That every imperfection is a lie / Or at least an interruption_

“See Jumin,” His father points at one of the lines on the paper, “Always be careful of these clauses in contracts. Never sign something with a clause like this.”

He nods in response, following his father’s lecture on the art of a perfect business contract. He listens to every point, completely invested in understanding what his father is teaching him. 

He won’t make a mistake of signing something wrong.

It doesn’t matter he’s only 12.

_Now hold on, let me finish / No, I'm not saying perfect exists in this life / But we'll only know for certain if we try_

He scans the paper in front of him for the 4th time, analyzing every requirement of the project he was presented.

“Jumin,” One of the kids sitting at the table shoots at him, “Stop reading it, let’s just put the project together and get it over with.”

He ignores him, continuing to read the detailed grading rubric at the bottom of the page

The kid groans in annoyance. He sees him roll his eyes. He sees him annoyedly whisper to the friend beside him. He hears the two laugh. 

He chooses not to care.

Or at least to try not to.

_I... I wanna sing a song worth singing / I'll write an anthem worth repeating / I... I wanna feel the transformation / A melody of reformation_

“You’re always planning something new, Jumin,” Jihyun points out, drawing Jumin’s attention out of the business plan he’s been so viciously working on. “Maybe you should take a break every so often.”

Jumin simply shakes his head, “I don’t need to.”

“You think you don’t need to,” Jihyun presses, “You’ve been in the library for 3 hours now.”

“As have you,” He calmly objects, not bothering to look up.

“Because I’m staying with you,” Jihyun leans down to look Jumin in the eye, “Why are you doing this?”

Jumin sits up straight, his eyes meeting Jihyun’s concerned expression. He opens his mouth, but the words die in his throat. He suddenly can’t find the words to tell him why. He can only force out one word.

“Perfection.”

_The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better in my mind_

He sits across the table from the older man, whose office is adorned in achievements and qualifications. He keeps a stone-cold expression as his hands shake under the table.

The man turns to his father next to him. “Mr. Han,” He begins, “I understand you have such faith in your son to manage this merger, but I can’t sign. I don’t feel I am receiving the confidence that my work is going in good hands.”

He feels sick. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out his father deliberating next to him. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. It’s his fault.

He’ll be better next time. 

_As if I could earn God's favor given time / Or at least congratulations_

He leans on the doorway of his room as he watches his father read the document he’s presented him with. His father shakes his head as he reads, his face clearly displaying his dissatisfaction with the work Jumin poured hours into this afternoon. 

He hands the paper back, “I cannot use this.”

Jumin takes the paper, but can’t say anything before his father walks off. 

He shuts the door, turning around and sliding down it almost involuntarily. He feels. He doesn’t know what. But he feels something. 

He runs a hand through his hair, tossing the paper off to the side in favor of grabbing onto his dress shirt until he’s sure his knuckles are white.

He sees water droplets fall onto his suit pants and suddenly feels ridiculously dirty. As if he has committed a million sins. Done the unforgivable.

He’s crying.

_Now I have learned my lesson / The price of this so-called perfection is everything_

‘You could have whatever you want! You’re rich!’ Zen types back, followed by a whole bunch of messages Jumin doesn’t care to read. He tells himself that Zen’s constant barrage of silver spoon and robot comments mean nothing to him.

But sometimes they seem too much.

He catches a glimpse of the finishing comment in Zen’s rant.

‘You’ll never understand real struggle like everyone else!’ It reads.

Jumin’s hand previously petting Elizabeth the 3rd next to him stops as he stares at the message. 

Suddenly the room feels so empty. Even with Elizabeth next to him, he feels painfully alone. So deep in such a state that he’ll never escape from it.

No one can love someone who is as oblivious as he is.

A steep price for having everything. 

_I spend my whole life searching desperately / To find out grace requires nothing of me_

He studies the array of resumes presented in front of him, analyzing for two things.

The ability to produce quality work and the ability to deny his father.

He sections off two of the resumes. Their tops are too low cut. They’ll fall for him for sure.

He adds another to the pile. They barely graduated highschool. 

None of them seem right. There are issues in all of them, fatal flaws that’ll cost him another assistant. He can’t take that again. He needs someone who matches his work approach. Detached and detail-oriented.

V calls his attention from across the room, holding a paper out to him, “Look at this one. She seems perfect. A lot like you too.”

He takes the paper from him and scans through the document.

‘Jaehee Kang’: Top 2% of her class, cooperative and driven, looking for a strictly professional working environment. She’s an amazing candidate for the job.

After all this searching, maybe he’ll get to keep this one.

_I... I wanna sing a song worth singing / I'll write an anthem worth repeating / I... I wanna feel the transformation / A melody of reformation_

“One more email,” He keeps his eyes glued to the phone screen in front of him, “We’re opening a new chain tomorrow.”

V laughs a little from across the table, “You never change, Jumin, always working towards something better.” 

Jumin looks up for a moment, met with V’s patient expression watching him as he types out an email at the dinner table. He doesn’t seem bothered with Jumin’s incessant need to work. He seems content with simply being there.

Something washes over him. He no longer has the drive to do any more work. Not out of pity for V. But more for himself.

He wants to change. He doesn’t want to be content with staying stagnant. So he places the phone face down in front of him.

“The email can wait.”

_I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly_

The guard opens the door, letting you in. You marvel at the delicately crafted room. 

But he. He marvels at you.

“Jumin?” You hesitate, drawing him back to reality, “Hello.” You give him a small wave.

He feels himself melt at such a simple sentence and doesn’t fight the smile that creeps across his face. Every fear and anxiety he had built up in the last few days seems to fade away.

He feels less alone. Less isolated from the world.

And for some reason, he says it out loud.

“I’m glad to have someone else here with me.”

_'Cause I spend my whole life searching desperately_

“Jumin,” You begin, causing him to look up from the document he’s reading, “Why can’t I leave?”

Panic washes over him as he hears you mention leaving. He doesn’t want you to leave. You can’t leave him. 

“I need you to stay with me, princess,” He assures you, “For your safety. I can’t have you be hurt.”

You pause for a moment, clearly taking the time to read the stone-cold expression on his face. You see directly through it. 

“Jumin, what is it really?” You press, “I won’t be mad, I want to help you.” You place a hand on his cheek and he jumps at the surprise contact. 

You go to take your hand away, but he puts it back.

“I don’t want you to leave me, MC,” He whispers, shame dripping from every word.

You offer a smile in return, shaking your head. 

“I would never leave you.”

  
  


_To find out that grace requires nothing_

“Hello, honey!” You greet as he walks in the door, going to place a kiss on his cheek as you normally do.

But he pulls away. And you immediately know something is wrong.

“Not now, princess,” He breezes right past you and takes a seat on the couch, immediately opening his briefcase. He pulls out a small stack of papers, spreading them out in front of him.

You walk over and take a seat next to him. “Jumin, what happened?”

“Nothing,” He mutters, eyes not leaving the table. 

“I need you to tell me, Jumin. I don’t care if it’s stupid.”

He sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back on the sofa, however, his eyes can’t seem to meet yours. “Failed deal, it’s nothing. I’m sorry for ignoring you, my love.”

“It’s alright, you’re right to be upset. Don’t feel bad about it.”

You always know exactly what to say, just how to comfort him. He may not always understand why you say it’s ok to be upset. 

But slowly, he’s starting to learn. 

_Grace requires nothing of me_

He stands at the altar, looking down the aisle to see you enter through the grand church doors.

Adorned in a beautiful white gown, the front piece of your veil draped over your face. You look perfect, smiling at him as you walk down the aisle. 

You stand in front of him as the priest begins the ceremony. He can’t focus on his words. Only on the beautiful woman standing in front of him.

The woman he went his whole life believing would never come to him. The woman he never believed he deserved. The woman who taught him how to feel.

The woman who showed him what perfection was. Not numbers on a page. Not achievements to put to his name.

But a person.

You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it! the man himself! just for future reference (and i'll probably mention at the beginning of her chapter too) but jaehee is actually also a one! so she'll have the same exact song lmao. but i definitely have a different direction i want to take her part, so it shouldn't be too big a deal. but if the song seems familiar, it is, they have the same one.
> 
> as always, who is next is a mystery until next time!! be back in probably like two days!


	4. Yoosung - "Seven"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, currently 6am so sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes haha. but here's yoosung!! he was surprisingly difficulty bc i retyped him after i had started drafting the original one with his original song. i realized it didn't fit him in the slightest to i went with 7 instead and thought it worked much better!! this then ended up being one of the longer ones i've done (though its got nothing on v's), but i couldn't find anything i felt would have no impact on the story if i cut it.
> 
> so, bc it's yoosung, he's depressed. my experience with this is LIMITED so i'm so sorry if it's not entirely accurate!! i'm trying my best i promise.
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

_How nice it'd be if we could try everything / I'm serious, let's make a list and just begin_

He finishes the final sentence on his list before holding it up to his sister, who is preoccupied with schoolwork on the couch. 

“Look!” He calls, prompting her to look up for only a moment. 

“What is that, Yoosung?”

“It’s my bucket list! With all these things I wanna do when I grow up,” He puts it on the table in front of her. 

She doesn’t look at it. “Oh, that’s nice,” She unenthusiastically compliments, pushing it away slightly.

His expression drops as he takes the paper and walks off. He enters his room and shuts the door behind him, pulling a box out from under his bed.

In it are papers. Plans for the future. Some he’s written and rewritten and rewritten over and over. Some he touched once and never bothered with again.

But all of them piqued only his interest.

He added the new list to the pile.

_"What about danger?" So what. "What about risk?" / Let's climb this mountain before we cross that bridge!_

He holds his arms out as he carefully walks across the log bridging the gap between the two riverbanks. 

“Yoosung, sweetheart, that’s not a good idea,” His mom cautions, “We have to reach the campsite by noon, your dad is waiting.”

He shakes his head, “I wanna do this first.”

“Why?” His sister shoots, “What are you getting out of this?”

“Fun.” He replies, reaching the other side of the log and turning around to face his family, “See! I made it!”

His mother offers nothing but an empty smile, his sister even less. They do nothing but stare at him, on the other side of a river he compulsively chose to cross. Neither joined in. Neither cared to. 

All he wants a partner to adventure with.

So he wouldn’t take on life alone. 

_'Cause I'm restless, I'm restless, I'm restless / For whatever comes next_

“This is your cousin, Rika,” His mom gestures to the girl in front of him.

“Hi! I’m Yoosung!” He greets excitedly. She waves back, offering him a warm smile, but not saying anything.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” His mother ruffles his hair before walking off. 

“The living room’s no fun, wanna go outside? There’s this cool spot up in the woods, I’ve been going there since I was a kid,” The words come so naturally to him as if she’s flipped some switch that gets him talking, “It’s a little bit of a haul but I promise you it’s worth it. Unless you don’t like adventures, of course, then I could find somewhere else to-”

“No, I would love to see this spot,” She approves, gesturing in front of her, “Lead the way.”

He almost freezes, never having had someone who agreed to go on one of his stupid ‘for fun’ adventures. But she, Rika, seems so willing. It’s a feeling of acceptance he’s never felt before.

It’s almost addicting. 

_How wonderful to see a smile on your face_

“Here you are, ma’am!” Rika says as she hands the woman in the hospital bed a piece of candy. The woman smiles back, nodding as to say thank you.

She comes back out into the hallway, beaming ear to ear. “Why don’t you go in and give the next patient something, Yoosung?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want to.”

“I thought you liked adventures?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

He simply shrugs it off. She doesn’t push more and turns around to continue pushing the cart to the next room.

In truth, he doesn’t want to do it because he never wants to take from her joy. She has magic he’ll never replicate. A contagious smile that seeks to only bring happiness. He can’t match that smile.

And it’s too addicting to try. 

_It costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade_

He can’t listen as his mother gives her eulogy. His eyes are glued on the picture of her. Sitting on the stand, a smile painted across her face. A moment frozen in time.

He can’t cry. He can’t feel. He can only stare at the person who he once held so dearly. The one who he always felt cared about him. Someone he’ll never be able to replace

He’s never felt so hopeless before.

Correction:

He’s never had to face feeling so hopeless before. 

_A secret handshake between me and my one life: / I'll find the silver lining no matter what the price_

“Yes!” Seven exclaims, pumping a face in the air, “God 707 wins again!”

Zen rolls his eyes, “Shut up, I don’t even know how to play this game. I’m surprised Yoosung didn’t beat you.”

Both boys look over at him, zoned out staring at the ground. The feeling of absence in his own life seems to sit itself on his shoulders. Muffling his senses so he doesn’t notice the eyes on him.

“Yoosung,” Seven hesitates, but he doesn’t look up. Seven pushes him slightly and tries again, “Yoosung.”

He suddenly snaps back, looking over to see two concerned faces next to him.

“You good, dude?” Zen raises an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He brushes off, forcing a yawn and a smile, “Just tired.”

Zen shrugs it off, and as much as the concern doesn’t leave Seven’s face, he diverts his attention back to the TV. 

He doesn’t know how much longer he can fake this. 

_'Cause I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry / For whatever comes next_

Boxes litter his dorm room, stacked in dangerous numbers. He tosses the one he just emptied off to the side, reaching for the next box on the stack.

He opens it and is met with an album. A photo album he never remembers packing. He hesitantly grabs the album, studying it before walking back to sit on his bed.

Slowly, he flips through the pages. He sees pictures from his childhood. Ones of him walking on cliff edges, sitting in trees, catching fish in the river. Things he hasn’t done in years.

He suddenly misses his childlike anticipation for every next adventure. He’s sure childhood Yoosung would have been so excited to go college, live on his own.

He wishes adult Yoosung felt the same way.

_Let me tell you another secret of the trade- / It feels like sinking when I'm standing in one place_

He lays in bed, unable to move. Unable to get up. Unable to even fantasize about making his classes this morning.

Something seems to shackle him there, tears welling in his eyes over nothing. He doesn’t know why he’s upset. But whatever it is, it’s eating him alive.

He’s not hungry.

He’s barely awake.

He’s not happy.

And he’s sure nothing can save him now.

_So I look to the future and I book another flight / When everything feels heavy, I've learned to travel light_

His hand aches as he violently clicks the mouse, defeating the final boss on this portion of the mission. He shakes out the tension in his hands as he sees the mission cooldown screen come up, giving him 5 minutes to restock and prepare for the next section. 

He spares a glance out the window next to him. The sun is coming up. He looks at the clock next to his computer. 5:36 AM. He looks at the timer in front of him. 4:52. 

The achievement from the mission wears off as he’s dragged back into a whirlwind of thought. Of how worthless his life truly is. A life where he continues to spend it running from what scares him.

Distractions. All he seeks are distractions. Never interests, or hobbies, or leisurely activities.

Distractions.

He presses skip on the cooldown timer.

_But I want to be here / Truly be here_

He fiddles with the tablecloth, eyes refusing to look up at any of the RFA members sitting around the table. He can hear them idly chatting, but the words seem indistinguishable from one another. He can only tell who is speaking. 

Jumin. Zen. Jumin. Seven. Jaehee. Zen. Jumin. Seven. Seven. Seven. 

“Yoosung!” Seven whispers a little louder, pushing Yoosung to get his attention.

He looks up at him, “What?” He doesn’t bother to paint a fake smile on his face anymore.

Seven gets up and grabs Yoosung’s hand, dragging him outside the restaurant and sitting him on a bench.

He sits down next to him, “What’s wrong? You’re so out of it today it’s insane.”

“It’s dumb,” He slurs, averting his eyes from Seven’s concerned expression.

“Tell me. Not gonna be dumber than anything I’ve said,” He reasons. 

“Do you know what it feels like to be a spectator to your own life?”

_To watch the ones that I love bloom / And I want to make room / To love them through and through and through_

“MC, you’re so kindhearted. You remind me so much of Rika,” He gushes to the phone on speaker sitting on the bed beside him, “You’re like the same person to me.”

He hears a faint sigh on the other end. “But I’m not her,” You state.

“But you still-”

“No, Yoosung,” You softly scold him, “I’m not her. I’m glad I mean a lot to you, but I’m me! Not her.”

He pauses a moment, attempting to understand what you just said. He knows you’re you. But you’re so much like her. You’re supportive like her. You listen to his stories. To his victories. To his struggles. 

Or maybe.

Someone just actually cares for him. 

_And through the slow and barren seasons too_

The phone rings for the third time, and he reluctantly takes it off the nightstand and answers it. 

“Mmm?” He can’t even seem to force out a full word.

“Hey, Yoosung!” You happily greet, “How are you?”

“Not great,” He sighs, “You?”

“I’m fine,” Your voice softens, “What’s wrong, Yoosung?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” He brushes off, burying himself further in his covers. 

“No, tell me, I want to help,” You press, “You can say you don’t know.”

He feels tears prick at his eyes but he blinks them away. “I don’t know. I haven’t had the motivation to do anything today. My room is a mess. I just…” He trails off.

“I’m here to support you Yoosung. I know it seems hard, but take one thing at a time,” You softly comfort, “You know what?”

“What?” He asks.

“I love you regardless.”

_I feel hope / Deep in my bones_

He reaches up to touch the eye protected with layers of cotton and bandages.

“Nope,” Seven rushes over from on the hospital chair in the corner, grabbing his hand away from his face. “Doctor said no touching your face, remember?” 

“No,” He deadpans, “Wasn’t fully conscious, remember?”

Seven laughs, “Well you bounced back quick!”

“Oh shut up,” He rolls his eyes. The room falls silent for a moment before he speaks up again, more serious this time. “Will I make it to the party?”

Seven shrugs, “I have no clue. Any particular reason?”

“I want to see MC.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, feel better first?”

“She’ll make me feel better. Always does.”

_That tomorrow will be beautiful_

You sit on the checkered blanket, fingers laced with his as you both overlook the lake. You move closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he rests head on yours in response. 

Neither of you say anything as you watch the burning orange sun fall under the skyline. The water is still and calm as it reflects the perfect mix of warm colors in front of you. The breeze sways the trees on the other side of the water, causing only the smallest ripples in the lake.

He feels at peace. The calmest he’s felt in such a long time. He feels no need to run. To hide from life and hope it gets better.

He’s happy.

Right where he is.

_And I'm ready. God I'm ready, oh I'm ready_

He carries in the last box into the almost empty apartment, setting it down on top of one of the already forming stacks.

You walk in from the other room, pressing a kiss on his cheek before grabbing one of the boxes against the wall. “Look at you, my big strong boyfriend,” You coo, scrunching your nose at him.

He laughs, stealing a kiss before you walk back into the room you were in before. 

He looks around at the space in front of him. It’s certainly not much, a small, 2 bedroom 1 bathroom apartment for the two of you. But it’s so perfect. Somewhere that has no history with him. Somewhere to create a new adventure.

With you.

_Restless and hungry, I'm ready_

He slides his phone across the table, “How does that place look? Fun, right?”

“Oh! Adventure in the trees!” You exclaim, “That looks like a lot of fun!”

He takes his phone back, “It’s always been on my bucket list. I never seemed to convince my parents to go. They always called it stupid or something.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” You smile, “I think it looks really fun! Who cares what they say!”

He laughs, smiling so wide his face hurts. 

Your unwavering excitement for all his adventures is adorable. You never ignore him when he talks about his never-ending bucket lists. Or brush off his requests to constantly try new things.

But more than that, you were interested in him, too. You listened to his worries, his fears. Encouraged him to take breaks from planning your next trip to relax in the moment. To live now instead of forming a cycle of running from what scared him.

You understood him so well.

_For whatever comes next_

You both stare off across the park, standing at the same water’s edge you’ve returned to so many times. His hand is loosely intertwined with yours, his other finding its way to his back pocket. He pulls out a box and slowly releases his hand from yours, drawing your attention. 

“Honey, I have a question for you,” He begins, keeping the box hidden from your view. 

You cock your head at him and raise an eyebrow, until you realize exactly what he’s doing.

He lowers himself to one knee and holds the box out in front of him, opening it to reveal the ring inside. 

“MC, will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay!! you made it!! i took yoosung's story in a slightly interpretive direction, but i think it turned out halfway ok!!
> 
> we're running out of people i have the skill to do, but it still stands. next up, who knows!! see you in a couple days or something!!


	5. 707 - "Five"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! this chapter i somehow knocked out in a day? which is fun. but here's the legendary 707!! this chapter also needs you to have watched/played the secret endings kind of? i mean if you haven't done them you'll still definitely understand it but saeran's situation may be a little fuzzy.
> 
> tw for this chapter kind of, its not graphic, but there is a couple mentions/scenes of the abuse they went through as children (i believe it's only the second and third). it's 707, i couldn't leave it out.
> 
> i think that's all, so i hope you enjoy!!

_I want to watch the universe expand_

He grabs the small boy’s hand so carefully he’s barely holding onto him. He leads him to the covered window at a slow enough pace to match how fast the boy's weak legs can take him. 

“Saeran,” He pulls open the curtain slightly and lets moonlight shine into the room, “Look at the moon!”

He has to boost his brother up onto the broken radiator to see, but he watches his face soften as he finds the full moon in the night sky. 

“Wow,” He marvels, eyes wide staring out the window. 

He looks at Saeran, with hollowed cheeks and eyes that seem to have not slept well in months. He looks so sick. So frail. So fragile.

His train of thought is interrupted by his brother looking back at him quizzically. “Hey, Saeyoung?”

“Yeah Saeran?”

He points to the grass beside the house, “When can we go out there and watch the sky?”

Saeyoung sighs before looking back up at the vast universe above him, separated by one layer of glass and several layers of fear.

“One day Saeran. I promise.”

_I want to break it into pieces small enough to understand_

“I don’t even want you here!” She slaps him across the face, but he doesn’t budge, “Now get out of the way so I can spend some time with your brother.” She points to the boy behind him, who is shaking so hard he can barely stand.

“No!” Saeyoung yells back, putting a hand out beside him to keep Saeran back, “Stop hurting him!”

She gives a quick shove to Saeyoung, sending both boys tumbling backward. She goes to grab his arm, but the phone rings in the other room before she can.

“You’re lucky that’s your father calling!” She kicks him one last time before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

He gets back up and sits Saeran up, checking for cuts and bruises either of them may have gotten falling down.

They sit in silence. As they always do. 

He picks apart everything in his head. All his mother said. All she did. Trying desperately to understand. What did he do to deserve this? What did Saeran do to deserve this?

Maybe one day he’ll learn. 

_And put it all back together again / In the quiet of my private collection_

Sobs rack the small boy’s body as he clings to his brother, gripping the back of his shirt as if letting go would cause him to disappear. 

“It hurts, Saeyoung,” He whimpers, “ It hurts.”

He rubs the boy’s head, calmly shushing him as he lifts his shirt to see the huge red marks on his back. Saeran grabs him harder as the shirt brushes across the scars, keeping his cries quiet to avoid the rage of their mother. 

“Are they bad?” His brother whispers, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

He looks down at him for a moment. He knows telling him the truth would scare him. But he doesn’t want to lie to his brother.

Moments like these make him wish he could disappear for a minute. Look at every possibility. Carefully select his next choice.

But he knows he can’t.

“No, they’re not too bad.”

_It feels like an out of body experience_

He lays in the grass outside his bunker. His new home. Staring at the stars in the sky, each a small spec in the vast reach of the universe. 

He feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He is doing the exact thing Saeran had dreamed to do with him for so long. But he’s doing it without him. Under a new name. In a new place. As a new person.

He hopes Saeran is staring at the same stars he is.

“Agent 707, come back inside. We have more training to do.”

_But something gets lost from a safe distance_

Lines of code fly across the screen as he types, his fingers flicking across the keyboard faster then he can try and process. He keeps so focused on his mission the world floats away.

He gets into the facility security. He pops open a series of doors. He gets valuable intel. He waits for the text.

‘Target eliminated. Pull back 707.’

Mindlessly he signs back out, leaving no trace he was ever there. No sign that he aided in committing a murder. Not even the smallest trace of the valuable data he just stole.

There’s something about a crime behind a screen that weighs heavier on him.

Even if it’s safer.

_And now I can't put my mind to rest_

He turns over again, groaning as sleep refuses to take even the smallest hold on him. No matter how much he squeezes his eyes shut, counts sheep in his head, or stares up at the ceiling. None of it works.

He sees nothing but the image of his brother. Sitting in that godforsaken house. Alone. Terrified. Hurt. 

He can’t begin to imagine all the things his mother probably did to him. But yet the ideas still run rampant in his head. All the horrible things he couldn’t protect him from. All the restless nights Saeran spent, in pain and alone.

If Saeran didn’t get to sleep, neither should he.

_And I can't help but second guess / Living behind this one-way mirror_

He pops the floppy disc into his computer, giving it a moment to appear on his desktop before opening it. In it one folder. ‘Him’.

He opens all the pictures and displays them out on his desktop, covering it in pictures of his brother.

Smiling. Laughing. Peaceful. Without him.

He simply stares at them. Imagining the day he gets to hug him again. Keep him tight to his chest. Tell him everything is going to be ok. Apologize for all the years he had to face life alone. Show him the better life he’s created for them.

That’s simply a distant dream.

_I'm hypnotized by this anomaly / Such strange uncharted territory_

He watches the messages go by on the screen, seeing you play along with another stupid joke on Yoosung. He joins in every so often, continuing to egg you on, but keeps oddly quiet. 

He’s simply watching.

He is perplexed by how he feels towards you. He enjoys talking to you more than he does anyone else. He savors every moment on the phone, watching you smile through the CCTV when he makes a joke or says something playfully flattering. 

It’s love. He knows it’s love.

But he knows he can’t love you.

_A white flag waves in the dark between my head and my heart / My armor falls apart_

“Seven,” You plead, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Get away from me!” He screams, pulling his body away from your touch, “I’m dangerous, I’ve told you this!”

You jump back, but persist regardless. “But I love you any-”

“I don’t love you!” He snaps, spinning around, “How am I going to get that in your head. You don’t understand!”

Silent tears begin to fall from your face as you stare at him in shock. You shake your head, holding up a hand to him before walking into the bathroom without a word.

He can hear your crying through the walls. He wants nothing more than to hold you tight. Tell you he was sorry. Explain to you all the raging thoughts bulldozing their way through his head. Show you how broken he is.

He wants to.

But he can’t.

_As if I could let myself be seen, even deeply known / Like I was already brave enough to let go_

You lay your head against his back, your legs wrapped around his waist as he’s hunched over at his computer. Your arms are lazily draped over his shoulders, lightly grabbing onto him from behind.

The clicking of the keys fills the silent room. He cherishes your warmth pressed up against his back, reminding him that you’re here. That you forgive him for all his yelling and all the pain he caused you.

Your voice breaks the silence. “Seven?”

“Mhm?” He replies, fingers still flying across the keys.

“When can I see what’s on that floppy disk?” 

He stops typing, freezing for a moment before grabbing your hands in his and pulling you closer. “I don’t know,” He whispers.

You lean over to see the side of his face over his shoulder. “Why?” You ask softly, “Is it just because it’s a secret?”

He sighs, “No.”

“Then why?” You hold him closer, “Tell me.”

“I’m scared to let you in,” He admits, voice so quiet you can barely hear, “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No, it’s not, but you told me it. You’re already strong enough to work on it admitting that. And that’s all that matters to me.

That you’re trying.”

_And now I want to generously lose / This energy that I've been hanging onto so desperately_

Saeran lays quietly on the couch, knocked out from his anxiety medication. He had another episode. He was screaming. He was so scared. And Saeyoung was helpless to it. As much as he tried he couldn’t fix it.

You walk up from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder before looking over what he’s so intently staring at.

He doesn’t need to say anything. You can read his mind, you know how he’s needlessly bashing himself right now. You reach up and grab his face delicately, turning it toward you.

“Saeyoung, it’s not your fault,” You console, dropping your hand so both of them hold his.

He spares another glance at his brother on the couch. “I keep telling myself that, but it never sticks.”

You press a kiss to his lips. “Well then, what if I tell you?”

“Maybe I’ll listen then.” A small smile creeps across his face.

“It’s not your fault,” You remind him, “He loves you more than anything, even if he can’t always tell you.”

His tension eases slightly, tears welling up in his eyes. He takes his hand away from you and brushes them away, laughing slightly.

“Happy tears, I hope?”

“Happy tears.”

_I finally feel the universe expand_

He walks into his brother’s room, finding him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he normally is. 

He looks over. “What?” He grumbles, “Why so smiley?”

Saeyoung says nothing, simply grabbing his hand and guiding him outside. Although reluctantly, Saeran follows behind, outside the bunker and into a clearing in the trees.

He guides his brother to the spot, letting go of his hand as he lays down on the ground and puts his hands behind his head. Saeran hesitantly takes a seat, his face twisted in confusion before he looks up at the sky.

“Woah,” The boy next to him almost involuntarily marvels, laying down on the ground to stare up at the sky dotted in stars.

“Remember a long time ago? When I promised you one day we’d see the full moon outside the house?” He looks over at Saeran, who is still staring at the sky in awe, “I kept it.”

Saeran doesn’t seem to hear him, his eyes still dancing around excitedly the beautiful sky above him. His face is lit by moonlight, but this time it’s natural.

Not filtered by glass. Or blocked by a curtain. It’s real.

And he finally feels at peace seeing him happy. 

_It's hidden in heartbeats, exhales_

You hold his head to your chest as he shakes from the nightmare he violently just awoke from. You simply run one hand through his hair, softly rubbing small circles on his back with the other.

He can hear your heartbeat. It’s even, calm, slow. He feels your chest rise and fall as you slowly breathe in and out. He tries to match your breathing, grounded himself with the sound of your heartbeat. 

You’re real. You’re here. He didn’t have to leave you. He didn’t hurt you.

The methodical sounds slowly lull him back to sleep, his thoughts empty of anxieties and fears. He doesn’t have to dwell on what may come next, and how he’s going to handle it.

He only has to think of you. 

With him. 

Right here.

Happy.

_And in the hope of open hands_

You’re asleep beside him, head leaning on his shoulder as the movie you planned to watch tonight plays in the background. He studies the soft, peaceful expression painted on your face. You’re so perfect. His 606. His angel. Someone who he knows will love him at even his worst.

One arm wrapped around your shoulder, he slowly pulls his other hand away from yours in your lap. He gently cups the side of your face, careful not to wake you.

In his hand, he holds the person who put his life back together. The one who helped bring his brother back to him. The one who showed him that hope isn’t always empty. That good things can happen.

Even to someone like him.

He places a soft kiss on your cheek. Though you can’t hear him, he tells you anyway.

“I love you, MC.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, you made it!! i actually enjoyed the way this chapter came out in the beginning portion, but the second half i was a little less certain on. fluff, not always my forte.
> 
> educated guess i'll likely do jaehee next, bc saeran is gonna be hard and rika is gonna be impossible. 
> 
> but still, next up, you know it by now, who knows!! catch you all when i finish the next one!


	6. Jaehee - "One"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey! saved the best rfa member for last, jaehee! this chapter took me a really long time, not because it was hard, but more because i found myself relating a LOT to jaehee. so some of the earlier parts are a lil personal experience, which took slightly longer to write because i wanted it to be correct haha. 
> 
> this isn't technically cannon, but you and jaehee are in a relationship towards the end of this chapter (its not interpretive in the slightest sorry). jaehee deserves romantic fluff too!
> 
> as always, enjoy!

_Hold on for a minute, 'cause I believe that we can fix this over time / That every imperfection is a lie_

She sat, curled up into a ball against the wall of her room, staring at the test on the floor. Tears stream down her face as the number seems to taunt her.

87.

She could have better. She should have done better. It was a math test she was more than prepared for. She easily could have gotten a 100. 

But she didn’t.

Her mother congratulated her nonetheless. Told her how proud she was of her wonderful, bright, perfect daughter. That the number didn’t matter. But she protested and stormed off. Into her room where she didn’t have to hear her mother’s pitiful praise.

Because she can’t let herself believe it.

_Or at least an interruption_

“Right in here, sweetheart,” The nurse guides her around the corner into the room. She had prepared herself for the worst. She is old enough. She can deal with it. She is confident she can.

Until she reaches the doorway.

She can’t move. She can’t think. She can only stare at the husk that once was her mother. Still and almost lifeless on the hospital bed, hooked up to machines and littered in gashes and scars. 

She feels the nurse place a hand on her shoulder, ushering her into the room. Although slowly, she walks up to her mother, grabbing her hand and taking a seat in the chair next to her. 

She can’t find the right words. She simply stares at her, tearful eyes and shaking hands. 

She tries her best to remember the last time she told her she loved her. 

She can’t.

_Now hold on, let me finish / No, I'm not saying perfect exists in this life_

“Jaehee,” Her aunt knocks on the door, “Are you coming to dinner?” 

“No,” She answers, eyes continuing to scan the textbook page in front of her.

She hears her aunt mutter something along the lines of ‘thank god’ outside the door, but she chooses to ignore it. 

She’s doing something more important right now.

Her body screams to do something else, take a break and get something to eat for the first time since lunch. But she chooses not to listen. This test is more important. She is perfectly aware of her history teacher’s exceedingly challenging assessments. She is absolutely not scoring low on this.

She’ll be here all night if she has to.

_But we'll only know for certain if we try_

The muffled argument of her aunt and uncle downstairs seems to pound on her already throbbing head. 

They’re arguing. Over her. Again.

Curled up on her bed, she buries her head in her knees, hoping to seek more darkness than in the already pitch-black room. She doesn’t want to go downstairs, inconvenience them more than she already is. They would be angry if she came down now and asked for a painkiller.

But she needs to keep studying.

Reluctantly she gets up, immediately feeling lightheaded and almost falling back down on the bed. Regardless, she goes and opens the door, met with louder yelling than she bargained for. 

“She took the luck out of this family!” Her aunt protests, “I am not financially supporting her any longer. I didn’t want her in the first place!”

She suddenly feels sick, not taking another step out of the room. She’s heard it a million times before in different forms. Ways of saying her aunt never wanted to take her in. 

But this feels different. It’s honest.

She isn’t wanted.

_I... I wanna sing a song worth singing / I'll write an anthem worth repeating_

“Congratulations, Jaehee,” Her aunt puts a hand on her shoulder, handing her a small bouquet of flowers. Jaehee simply takes the flowers and smiles back at her aunt, who is wearing the faintest fake smile on her face. 

Her aunt walks off, towards one of her cousins on the other side of the room. 

She knows her aunt is simply excited to have her out of the house. It’s ok, she’ll make a living on her own.

She doesn’t need that love.

She watches as her cousin receives a huge hug from her aunt. Both beam from ear to ear. Her uncle walks over to them and hands her cousin a considerably sized bouquet of beautiful flowers. 

Another hug. More praise. More love.

Everyone in the room has someone. Congratulating them for graduating. Expressing how proud they are in their child who made it all the way through high school.

Except her.

She stands corrected: 

She doesn’t deserve that love.

_I... I wanna feel the transformation / A melody of reformation_

She hangs up the phone, finally feeling able to breathe after a month of violently looking for a job.

This was her furthest reach application. Chief Assistant at C&R at her age is unheard of.

Until now.

She should feel proud. She was able to put forth an image a huge company decided was the right fit for them. She is finally able to stand on her own two feet. Not needing anyone else.

But she still feels empty.

As if she didn’t deserve this. As if she cheated to get here. That it was simply luck that carried her to this job. Not the hours spent studying in school. Or the days spent writing and reviewing a unique resume for every job she applied for.

It didn’t feel right. But she has no choice.

She has to stick with this.

_The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better in my mind_

She stares at the skeleton of a report in front of her. One that hasn’t gotten done because she can’t get past the fear of doing it wrong. A fear that the product will not be perfect.

She needs to start. Once she starts, she knows she can finish.

But her research isn’t strong enough. She hasn’t seen a good standard for this type of report before. What if she does it wrong? What if she shows that she doesn’t always produce perfection? What if others see that?

She can’t have that happen. So she continues to simply stare. 

Soon enough, her vision blurs as she fights back frustrated tears. She won’t cry over this. That’s pathetic. It’s work. 

But she knows she’s not upset with the work.

She’s upset with herself.

_As if I could earn God's favor given time_

She hears a knock on her door, shocking her out of her intense focus on the last piece of work she has to do tonight. 

Although confused, she goes and opens the door, met with the last person she wanted to see.

Mr. Han.

“I apologize for the late notice but,” He holds out a considerable stack of papers, “I need this research synthesized by the end of the day tomorrow. I was just given the material after you had left the office.”

She can’t find the words to reply, simply nodding her head as she takes the papers from him.

“I’ll see you in the office tomorrow, Assistant Kang,” He nods to her before walking off towards his car. 

She shuts the door but doesn’t move, rapidly trying to process what happened faster than her brain can react to it. She’s thinking far too fast. The world around her seems to blur, but she realizes too late.

She’s suddenly hugging her knees to her chest on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. Sobs wrack her body, although she doesn’t remember when she started crying. 

But she’s simply wasting time.

Breaking down over work. 

No.

Over being overworked.

_Or at least congratulations_

“This is far too much, Mr. Han,” She sighs, taking another pile of papers and documents from her boss’s hands.

His expression stays static, “Why would you say that?”

“It’s simply-” She pauses for a moment, collecting her composure, “I don’t believe I can continue at such a pace.”

He looks at her for a moment, clearly trying to understand what she has just said.

“Well, you get paid very well. This should be your motivation to continue working,” He reasons, “I’m sure you’ll continue to produce your quality work, correct?”

She forces a small affirming smile. “Of course,” She whispers, watching as he exits the room with no goodbye.

Her eyelids seem heavy at the sight of all the work to be done. It’s so much, she knows she can’t complete all that if she wants to go home today.

But he’s right. She gets paid. She’s lucky.

She has no right to complain.

_Now I have learned my lesson / The price of this so-called perfection is everything_

Another document gets placed in the finished pile as her other hand grabs the next one to be read. A familiar pattern she’s fallen into every night for the past 1 ½ years of her life. It’s instinctual.

Robotic.

She, somehow, can’t focus on what she’s reading anymore, mind choosing to wander off elsewhere.

To thoughts of her mother, who would always warn her about working too hard. How people lose themselves in the search for perfection. How she would be upset only if her only daughter’s perfectionism turned toxic.

It suddenly hits her.

Her mother would be so upset with what’s she’s become.

_I spend my whole life searching desperately_

“Jaehee, can I ask you a question?” You ask from the other end of the phone call.

She makes a small note on the page in front of her, “What’s the question, MC?”

“Why don’t you take a break? It can’t be healthy working this much.”

She puts down the pen she’s holding. “I-” She pauses, looking for the right answer, “I can’t take a break. I’d be more behind and then I’d need to make sure afterward I worked hard enough to-”

“No no,” You stop her, “Past that.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

But she absolutely does understand. She can pinpoint the exact reason why she keeps working on anything that’s put in front of her. The reason she always keeps occupied by doing whatever she can to help.

To make sure she’s wanted.

To make sure she’s needed.

And not simply tolerated.

_To find out grace requires nothing of me_

“I want no more research on this coffee project. It’s not practical. Rather, I want a presentation on the most recent cat project done for tomorrow,” He slides a report across the table before walking out of her office without another word.

She looks at all the research she has yet to do on this coffee project. All of the information she was excitedly looking to learn. The only project she has ever felt passionate about.

Passion. She's found a passion. 

And as all things happen in her life, it was being ripped away from her.

_I... I wanna sing a song worth singing / I'll write an anthem worth repeating_

She shuts the door to her apartment, letting out a shaky breath at the sight of all the work she still has yet to do.

However, she no longer has any desire to continue to work on any of it. 

She sets at the hand mill on the table and takes a seat, tears still slowly falling down her face. She hadn’t meant to pour her heart out Zen. He didn’t deserve to hear her worthless woes.

Yet, he listened. He didn’t just nod along. He actually listened to her. Reassured her that she should be doing what she wants to. Reassured her that there, in fact, are people who care about her. Reminded her of the same thing she has seemed to have forgotten for so long.

That she wasn’t worthless without her work.

_I... I wanna feel the transformation / A melody of reformation_

She flops on the couch, breathing a sigh of complete relief. A smile stays painted across her face. A foreign feeling of relaxation seems to flow over her.

She finally feels free again, something she hasn’t truly felt since she was a child. She doesn’t have to think about any of the work that needs to be done tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. She has no calendars to fill out or flights to book anymore. For the first time in 2 years, her schedule is empty. 

She only has to focus on seeking her own happiness. Not in money. Not in achievement. Not in workload. 

Only in true passion. 

Her mother would be proud of her.

_I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly_

Her hand in yours, you both walk into the almost empty space, only a counter closing in one corner of the room. You look to Jaehee next to you, seeing a fire in her eyes as she looks around the cafe.

Your cafe.

She points to the more open side of the room. “We could have tables there, and maybe put window seats on those windows too,” She points to the other side of the room, “But we’ll definitely have them there. Although I’m not sure if that would be the most practical setup for-”

“Jaehee,” You stop her, causing her to look at you. You cup one side of her face with your free hand. 

“What is it?”

“I’m sure whatever you do it’s going to be beautiful,” You reassure her.

She spares a slightly more apprehensive glance to room, “I’m just nervous.”

“About what?”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not good enough and people don’t like it?” She worries, the smile slowly turning into a look of fear.

“I don’t care what they think, I will love it no matter what you do,” You smile, “I know it’ll take time, but I want you to remember I’m here for you. Even if nothing works out and we’re left desolate, I will still be here for you, Jaehee.”

She’s lost all words. She simply can’t express her appreciation for you. So she pulls you into a hug, whispering the only thing she can think of.

“Thank you, MC.”

_'Cause I spend my whole life searching desperately_

She pushes the door open, walking into the back of the cafe to find you pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven. You look back and smile, placing the cookie tray on the tabletop as you reach for the next one.

She walks over to you. “Hello, MC,” She gives you a quick kiss before studying the cookies on the table, “Those look like they came out well.”

“Yeah, they did!” You put the second tray on the table and close the oven, “How are you, sweetheart? Any reason you came back here?”

“Just too see you,” She replies, yawning.

“Are you tired? You can take a break if you’d like, I can take over,” You assure her.

“No, I’m fine, I can continue working. Don’t worry,” She brushes your offer off.

“I’m concerned that you never take a break, Jaehee,” You press, “Even at C&R. Actually, especially at C&R.”

She simply shakes her head, laughing a little, “It’s different now.”

“How so?”

“I love what I’m doing.”

_To find out that grace requires nothing_

You plant a kiss on her cheek, “I think this recipe is gonna turn out really well!”

“I hope so as well,” She smiles, before grabbing the bowl and turning to the side, accidentally knocking the bag of sugar off the counter.

“Oh shoot!” She exclaims, putting the bowl back down while keeping her eyes locked on the mess on the floor, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright!” You console, stopping her rant but not causing her to turn around. You wrap her arms around her waist, pressing another kiss on her cheek. “We can clean it up. It’s only sugar.” 

“I know, but that’s a new bag, you just processed stock orders the other day and I didn’t mean to mess that up and-”

“And I’ll do it again,” You laugh, “I don’t mind!”

She turns around, and you take her hands in yours. “You’re not mad?” She questions.

“No! I couldn’t be mad about an accident! Nobody’s perfect, and that’s ok!”

She smiles at your comment.

You’re right. Nobody’s perfect. 

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

_Grace requires nothing of me_

You hold your arms out to your girlfriend, “Come to bed, it’s late.”

She spins around in the chair, giving you a soft smile before shutting the laptop on the desk. “Only because you asked.”

She gets in bed beside you and pulls the covers over herself, allowing you both to wrap your arms around one another. 

You play with her hair, now long enough that you can. “Your hair has gotten so long!” You quietly comment. 

“Mmm,” She affirms, “I missed it.”

“I like it better long,” You laugh, “Maybe part of that is how it makes your smile so much brighter.”

She pulls you in closer, “Why do you always say such sweet things?” 

“Because I believe them, and you don’t hear them enough.”

She falls silent for a moment before speaking again, this time slightly more solemn, “I feel bad, I never know how to say them to you.”

You begin to lightly run a hand through her hair, “It can be simple. It’s just what comes to mind naturally. However you feel at that moment.”

“I simply never learned how to express that,” She admits.

“Try,” You urge, “Just tell me what you’re thinking right now, whatever first comes to mind.”

“Whatever?” She asks. You hum in response, nodding your head slightly. 

“I love you, MC.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! adding a little gay in there never hurt anyone. but we only have two left! these last two are going to likely take me longer than a lot of these did (maybe not saeran, but his chapter is gonna be complicated on its own). 
> 
> next up, i can conclusively say is saeran lmao BUT for consistencies sake, who knows!! see you in an undefined amount of time!


	7. Saeran - "Six"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy sh- this chapter was over 4,000 words long. i didn't intend to make it the longest chapter by that far but here we are. saeran is a super interesting character to write, and on top of the song having a lot of content i probably got a lil carried away. i think it still came out really well.
> 
> as with v, MAJOR spoilers for another story. this time you don't really need to know much, but if you don't care abt spoilers here's the 2 most important things: 1) after rika inducts him to mint eye, saeran and ray form as separate pieces of him. the idea mimics DID, although its an exaggerated example of it. 2) seven gets kidnapped towards the end of his route, and since theirs no ae you have no idea if he's found. 
> 
> i made up my own happy ending to his route (since there's no ae), so if you don't recognize story pieces at the end, that's why.
> 
> MAD TW this chapter is ROUGH: if you know saeran, you know this is rough. descriptions of childhood abuse (the second scenario) is probably the main thing, but a lot of the other parts may be a little touchy as well. it's saeran, come on.
> 
> sorry this note was long, but i needed the space!! enjoy anyways!!

_I had the most vivid dream_

He’s running. Running faster than his broken and weakened body can take him. Running away from something. A monster. She’s catching up to him. He can’t run fast enough. He can’t. He-

He jolts awake, screaming involuntarily. A hand cups around his mouth, muffling his screams before he can stop himself. He favors crying over screaming, slowly beginning to be overtaken by tears. He feels arms pull him in and he shakes and sobs into his brother’s shoulder.

“Nightmare?” His brother whispers to him. Saeran simply nods his head. 

“They can’t get you out here. I’ll protect you. Always.”

He says nothing. He can’t say anything. He can’t find the words. He can’t find any words.

He’s so scared.

That she’ll find him again.

And it’ll be real.

_My feet had left the ground_

She grabs him by the neck, almost crushing his throat in her hands.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. 

She’s screaming at him but he can’t hear her. Drowned out by his cries for help and forgiveness. Deafened by the screaming in his head. Dizzy from the lack of air.

After what feels like forever, she throws him down as if he were a doll. He hits the ground hard.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

He watches as blurs move in front of him, obstructed by the tears streaming down his face. His brother steps in front of him, and his mother screams at him too. He screams back. 

Saeran barely gets back on his feet before he’s on the ground again. Shoved back by the weight of his brother.

He’s shaking. He’s crying. He can barely catch his breath.

His head screams at him still.

He’s going to die.

If not today, then someday soon.

_I was floating to heaven / But I could only look down_

He sits on the curb, eyes fixed on the sky above him. The feeling of warming sunlight wraps around him as he gazes at the slow-moving clouds. 

Despite how he wishes he could simply enjoy what will likely be the last time in a very long time he’ll see the sun, he can’t. He can’t enjoy the clouds when his brother’s eyes are locked on him. He can’t enjoy the sky when he knows his brother can’t. He can’t be carefree when he knows his brother lives in worry. Not about both of them.

Only about him.

He never tells him, but he’s worried too. He’s learned to look happy. To make Saeyoung relax. 

But he’s terrified.

Thinking of it all. What happened before. What comes next. 

He’s terrified.

Always.

_My mind was heavy / Running ragged with worst case scenarios_

Saeyoung cups his crying brother’s face in his hands, “I’m going to be back. I won’t be away long, but we need food. Mom is knocked out cold, she won’t be awake for hours. I’ll be back by then.”

He nods as Saeyoung walks away, silently slipping out of their room. Tears continue to fall as he feels like the walls are going to crash in around him. 

There is nothing he hates more than being without Saeyoung.

He begins to shake, burying his head between his knees. He can’t stop thinking. Of all the things that could happen to both of them. Of Saeyoung getting taken. Of himself being hurt. Of them both getting in trouble.

He’s so worked up. He knows he’ll stay like this until Saeyoung comes back. He’s the only one who can calm him down.

But he should be worried.

Because, what if?

_Emergency exits and the distance below_

He leans against the wall, slowly eating the piece of bread Saeyoung was able to get to him. He watches his brother read a book, intently focused on the words on the page. Saeyoung was always smarter than he was. 

“Saeyoung?” He asks, drawing his brother’s attention up to him.

“Yeah, Saeran?”

He pauses a moment before shaking his head, “Nevermind.”

Saeyoung sits up, cocking his head at him, “What were you gonna ask? It’s ok, I can try and answer.”

He grips the bread slightly tighter. “When can we leave?” He asks, his voice quiet, “You talk about it a lot, but we’re still stuck here.”

Saeyoung’s face saddens, “We’ll get out one day. It’ll be hard but we will. I’m going to try my best to make a better life for both of us, ok?”

He nods his head, eyes drifting off to the window blocked by dirt laced curtains. 

He wants nothing more than to leave. To get out of where they are. To live a life where he didn’t live in constant fear.

It would be perfect. 

Yet the thought of escaping still terrifies him.

_I woke up so worried that the angels let go_

He’s run out of energy, laying curled up in a ball in the corner of his room. He can’t cry. He can’t scream. He can’t move.

He can only think.

About all the horrible things that could have happened to Saeyoung. What he was doing. If he was alright. Why he left him.

But he would still come back.

Right?

_Oh God I'm so tired / Of being afraid_

“Where is Saeyoung?!” He cries, curling up against the outside wall of the church, “She asks where he is and I don’t know! Why can’t you tell me?”

V crouches down to his level, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “Saeyoung had to leave. To help you. You’ll get to see him soon, I promise, Saeran.” 

He sniffles a little, blinking away the tears previously welling up in his eyes, “When?”

“Soon. Don’t worry.”

He just stares at V. Unable to tell him the horrid things his mother will do to him. What she’s already done. How she will scream at him, asking what he did with his brother. How she’ll hurt him when he tells her he doesn’t know.

V pulls his hands away and turns his attention to the garden, smiling at the newly blooming flowers. Acting like nothing is wrong.

But he can’t just do that.

He has to go home soon.

And he’s still afraid of her.

_What would it feel like / To put this baggage down?_

“Open!” She demands, grabbing his face despite his protests.

“No! No no no no more-” He’s interrupted by a bitter-tasting liquid being poured down his throat. He keeps his mouth open. He’s learned better.

She stops pouring the vile and steps back. “Leave your weakness behind! Where you came from! Remember what I told you, that is for Ray! Do you understand?”

She throws the glass vile at the ground in front of him, shards hitting his knees. He looks up at her disappointed face, looking down on him. Her eyes pierce like daggers. Her face seems to look like someone else.

His mother.

“Answer me!” She screams at him. 

“Yes! Yes!” He cries, pitiful tears beginning to fall again, “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Good to see you, Ray,” She gets down on his level.

“A crybaby, as always.”

_If I'm being honest / I'm not sure I'd know how_

He enters Savoir’s room, walking up and bowing before stepping back, giving her room to come off her throne. She looks him up and down before her eyes lock into his.

Her expression screams disappointment. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to say anything.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, “I’m useless. I couldn’t do it.” His gaze falls to the floor, his arms wrapping themselves around his stomach.

“What, are you gonna cry?” She mocks, “Like the child you are Ray. I don’t ask for much, yet look at you. Failing.”

Tears prick at his eyes, but he blinks them away.

She points her finger at him, “You’re going to do it right this time, right?”

“Yes, Savoir.”

But he doesn’t know that. 

How could he?

_I want to take shelter but I'm ready, ready to fight_

He clips the chain to the collar of his suit before Savoir walks up behind him.

She places a hand on his shoulder, “Nice to see you, Saeran. Ray was getting a little, how would you say it-”

“Annoying,” He spits. She gives him an affirming smile, laughing a little.

“There’s a vile on your desk,” She backs off slightly, “Take it.”

Her heels click as she exits the room, shutting the door delicately behind her. He walks to his desk, finding the small, heart-shaped bottle his elixir is always in.

He downs the whole bottle in one shot, the bitter liquid causing his face to contort. But he doesn’t waste a drop. He doesn’t spit it back out.

He’s not weak.

Only Ray is weak.

_And somewhere in the middle I feel a little paralyzed_

He curls himself up as small as he can in his desk chair, shielding his eyes from the light of the computer screen. His head is pounding. He can’t think straight. He can’t hack like this.

He can only focus on Saeran, screaming that his turn is up. That he is useless. That he isn’t fit for this job.

“No,” He whispers, “Nonononono!”

He’s afraid of all the things Saeran could do. They both need this job done. But he knows Saeran won’t listen to him. Won’t back down so he can just finish what he started.

Saeran’s work isn’t meticulous enough.

He’s too dangerous.

So he’ll deal with the headache. 

_But maybe I'm stronger than I realize_

He swishes the bottle in his hands, watching as the blue liquid swirls around slowly. It’s mesmerizing. Satisfying, almost.

But he knows this bottle equates to liquid torture. He knows he won’t be Ray anymore. He’ll be Saeran. And he doesn’t want that in the slightest.

Although Savoir does, he still doesn’t.

So he puts the vile down.

_I wanna believe / No, I choose to believe_

He presses enter on the keyboard, sending lines and lines of code flying across the screen. He leans back, knowing this may take some time.

He flips screens. To you. Sitting quietly on the bed. Messaging the RFA members just as he’d told you to.

There’s something to you. An aura, possibly some sort of spell. It makes him feel comfortable. It makes him feel wanted. 

Your kindness. Your faith. Your patience.

It gives him hope.

That somebody may finally care about him.

_That I was made to become / A sanctuary_

He delicately holds your hand in his, guiding you into his favorite portion of the garden.

It’s an eclectic mix of flowers that should not look this beautiful together. Yet, somehow, they do. 

He releases your hand and turns around, a soft smile painted across his face. “This is my favorite part of the garden.”

You look around in awe, taking in all the different colors and combinations around you. One, in particular, catches your eye.

You walk over to it, running a soft finger around the edge before turning back to him. You smile, pointing at the white flower beside you, “This flower reminds me of you, Ray.”

He cocks his head at you, “Why would that be, MC?”

You shake your head slightly, eyes returning back to the flower, “I don’t know, it just feels like you.”

You resume looking around at the flowers, but he can’t shake your comment.

You compared him to a daisy.

A flower of innocence. Purity. A loyal love.

Although you likely had no indication of its meaning, it still comforts him. You see him for something he wishes he was.

Pure.

_Fear won't go away_

His fingers flick across the keyboard, carefully but quickly typing out line after line. On the more familiar sequences, he finds his brain wandering elsewhere.

To the redhead, and his constant battle for victory against him.

To you, who he must protect from the danger of the RFA.

To Savoir. 

Who expects only success. 

His hands begin to shake as he types, his mind seeming to race with any thought besides his work. Millions of Savoir’s words seem to play on repeat. Reminding him of how useless he was. Of how this job needed to be completed perfectly. Of the things she’ll do if he’s not successful.

How she’ll hurt him.

Hurt you.

He pulls his now furiously shaking hands away from the keyboard and buries his face in them, beginning to pitifully cry. He’s cracking from the pressure. 

And he’s terrified you’ll pay for it.

_But I can keep it at bay_

Saeran won’t leave him alone. Constantly screaming that it’s his turn to talk to you. His turn to torture the toy. 

But he won’t allow Saeran to win. You aren’t getting hurt.

He picks up the phone, dialing your number.

“Hello?” Your voice rings from the other side, grounding him yet aggravating Saeran.

“Ahh!” His head throbs, “H-hello, MC.”

“Ray,” Your voice drips with concern, “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

His breathing heavies, desperately trying to avoid hurting you. “I have- such- a headache,” He forces out, “Ahh!”

“I’m guessing you can’t take anything?”

“Mm-mm” He shakes his head slightly, grabbing onto his hair so tightly he’s surprised he doesn’t rip it out.

“Why don’t you breathe with me? We can try that, maybe it’ll help!” You keep your voice low.

“Breathing?”

“Yeah!” You insist, “I’ll count to 4, you breathe in with me, then I’ll count to 4 again and you breathe out.”

“Ok,” He hesitates. 

You begin to count. In 4, out 4. In 4, out 4. Slowly he feels his head begin to calm, the throbbing becomes manageable.

He doesn’t want to hurt you anymore.

He controlled himself. 

_And these invisible walls / Just might keep us safe_

You sit on the bench in the garden with him, toying with one of the flowers sticking out of the plants beside you both. He doesn’t say anything, simply enjoying your soft smile, completely relaxed.

“Hey Ray, can I ask you a question?” You ask, eyes looking to him.

He raises an eyebrow, “What is it, my love?”

“How did you come here?” You turn your full attention to him, letting your hands fall from the flower, “I know my circumstances weren’t normal, right?”

He pauses, staring at your genuinely interested expression. He knows he can’t tell you with words. All the things he’s been through. How he’s gotten here. He still can’t let you in like that.

He settles for a different explanation.

“See that flower there,” He points to a collection of orange flowers, “Remember how you said I was like the white flower? Similar to that, that flower is why I’m here. I can’t tell you any more, MC.”

You nod slightly, studying the flower in an attempt to understand what he means. But he knows exactly why he chose that.

The butterfly weed. With one simple meaning.

Leave me.

_With a vigilant heart_

She holds out the bottle to him, “I want to see Saeran.”

He takes the bottle out of her hands and drops it on the ground, causing the glass to shatter and the liquid to go everywhere. She looks from the mess to him, in shock.

“Why would you do that, Ray? Are you alright?” She asks, a familiar edge to her soft voice. 

“Saeran says he doesn’t want to see you,” He declares, voice unwavering, “He says you lie. You claim to protect children when, in truth, you simply want to hurt them. You want to hurt me.”

“I would never!” She exclaims, “I am not my parents! This is why you’re weak, Ray, useless! You don’t question me!”

His expression stays stagnant, eyes remaining locked on her.

He doesn’t believe her anymore. She’s not as good as she claims. She wants to hurt him. Pit Saeran and Ray against each other. Saying it will save him.

But Saeran’s right.

She lies.

_I'll push into the dark_

He’s running, you by his side. Running faster than he ever thought he could. He’s tired, weakened, strained.

But energized.

The pitter-patter of Believer’s feet behind you both has grown distant, although he has no intention of slowing down.

However, you can’t keep up. 

You stumble over something, falling to the ground. He spins back around, seeing you panting while kneeling on the ground. He walks up to you, placing a delicate hand on your shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” He manages to force through the heavy breathing of his own, “We can stop if you need, MC.” 

You shake your head, looking back up at him. You give him a smile, “No, we can do this. Let’s go.” You hold out your hand to him.

He grabs it and pulls you back up.

And you’re both off running again.

_And I'll learn to breathe deep / And make peace with the stars_

“Saeran,” You call, “Saeran!”

He hears you calling but is too preoccupied to register it’s his name he hears. You finally walk out onto the deck of the cabin to find him, neck strained to look up at the sky.

“Saeran,” You grab his hand off the railing and hold it in yours, “You’re going to get hurt like that.”

He turns his head to look at you, confused. “But, I want to see the stars. I have to look up.” 

“Come here,” You guide him to a shortened patch of grass, sitting down and encouraging him to do the same. You lay down and point up, “See, now you can see it without hurting yourself.” 

He lays down beside you, mouth slightly agape as his eyes dance around the brightly lit sky.

“Have you- Have you never stargazed before, Saeran?”

He shakes his head, “I was never allowed. Only through the window.”

You scoot closer, grabbing his hand tighter in yours. “Well, I’m glad to share this first with you.”

He nods, continuing to let his gaze move from star to star.

He squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

You’re here.

You’re real.

_Is that courage or faith / To show up every day?_

You run your hands through his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist. He types a few last lines of code before pushing the computer off his legs, turning around to bury his head in the crook of your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, “Any progress?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, continuing to sink deeper into your touch. 

“You need a break?” You ask.

He nods his head this time, and you begin to trace slow circles on his back with your finger. 

“You’re so strong Saeran,” You whisper to him, “It’ll take time, but never forget that.”

He struggles to believe you. So many things telling him he isn’t. The Mint Eye trained parts of his brain shaming him for taking a break.

These pieces are loud.

But you’re louder.

_To trust that there will be light / Always waiting behind_

He grabs onto your sleeve, clearly struggling to catch his breath. His eyes are wide like plates, darting around the room before settling on a corner. 

“Saeran, are you alright?” You step in front of him to block his sight of the room, “Do you want to go outside?”

He looks at you in fear for a moment, before realizing who is standing in front of him. “Yes, can we?” He whispers. 

You take his hand and guide him outside, the cool air flooding back into his lungs. His breathing evens out again as he looks up at the sky. 

“We were trapped in that room for so long,” He begins, “We couldn’t leave unless she was blackout drunk. And even then, I would never leave. 15 years. In that small room. And now to just leave-” His voice trails off, his eyes beginning to blur slightly from welling tears.

You cup your hands around his face, bringing his head down to look at you. “You’ve been through so much, but you did it. You made it through.”

He smiles softly, leaning into you. You press a kiss to his lips. 

His fears melt away. He feels nothing but safety. 

Comfort.

Love.

_Even the darkest of nights_

He bolts up, hands instinctively clasping over his mouth to muffle any screaming. 

Old habits die hard.

Sobs already begin to shake him as he brings his knees to his chest. Before he can bury his head in his knees, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see your calm yet concerned expression looking at him.

“Hey, Saeran, you’re alright,” You console, placing a hand on his cheek and wiping away tears with your thumb, “Did you have a nightmare?”

He nods slightly in response, placing his hand over yours.

“Here, lay back down,” You grab the cover and pull it back over him, allowing him to stretch back out and lay down. You take his hands in yours under the covers, “You wanna talk about it?”

He only shakes his head, unable to articulate anything to you. He just wants you closer. To hold him. Make him feel safe. 

You practically hear his thoughts, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you. He loosely puts his arms back around you, simply letting you hold him tighter.

You play with his hair, encouraging him to bury his face in your neck as you do.

You begin to hum a lullaby. He’s never heard it before, but it soothes him.

The nightmare seems to fade from his memory as your song lulls him to sleep. He isn’t frantic or panicked. He’s calm.

Because he knows for sure.

Here, he’s safe.

_And no matter what_

“MC!” He calls, eyes continuing to be glued to his computer screen. 

You walk up behind him, wiping off your hands of the flour you were just working with. You toss the towel over your shoulder and wrap around his neck.

“What it is, sweetheart?” You ask, planting a kiss on his cheek before your attention is drawn by a shaky hand pointing at the screen. 

“Th- The- They- They found him,” He sputters, barely able to force out one sentence.

You immediately lean in closer, reading the paragraph of the email he’s pointing to. 

“Holy- Is he ok? Do we know?” You ask, “Can we get him?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t know if he’s ok, but I’m going. Tomorrow.”

You lean in you grab his slightly shaky hands in yours, resting your head on his.

“I have a good feeling about it,” You rub the back of his hands with your thumbs.

“You got this, Saeran.”

_Somehow we'll be okay_

He slowly paces back and forth on the sidewalk, eyes glued to the ground. His legs burn from all the walking, but it’s the best distraction he has at the moment. 

Jumin impatiently taps his foot, arms crossed over his chest. Next to him is Jaehee, and next to her Yoosung. He’s still unsure of why they invited that boy.

Finally, a car pulls up, a large bodyguard stepping out of the front seat. 

“The boy was well enough to bring here first, Mr. Han. Just as you requested,” He talks to Jumin as he moves to the car door. Jumin nods and the man opens the door. Although slowly, out comes the redhead, littered in bruises and skinnier than normal.

Saeyoung looks from Jumin, to Jaehee, to Yoosung.

To Saeran.

He brings his hands up to his mouth. He stares in shock, tears of disbelief welling up in his eyes.

Saeran offers only the smallest smile.

Saeyoung shakes his head, pointing at him. “You’re- You’re- You’re ok,” He marvels, “Saeran!”

Suddenly, he runs at him, pulling him into a huge hug. Saeran grabs him back, hearing Saeyoung crying right beside him.

“You’re alive. You’re ok. We’re both ok!” He forces between breaths, tightening his grip on Saeran. 

He wants to hate him. Tell him how much suffering he caused him.

But he can’t. Because he doesn’t hate him.

He misses him. 

_Don't be afraid_

You bury your feet in the hot sand, watching as he continues to slowly eat his ice cream. You rest your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He takes his free hand and wraps it around you, pulling you in even closer. You both watch as the waves slowly pulse, pushing the tide in and out.

“The sky is beautiful,” He whispers, his eyes locked on the rising sun peeking above the horizon. The sky is painted with orange and yellows, which slowly fade to blues. 

The world seems to fade away, worry only a distant memory. He needs nothing more than to have you here.

With him.

Reminding him he’s strong enough. Assuring him that he’s making progress. Recovering one step at a time. 

“I love you, Saeran.”

“I love you so much more, MC.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! you made it through that monster!! this chapter took me so long to work up the guts to draft, and then almost as long to write. i'm still lowkey proud of how things turned out tho (even if it was mad long). 
> 
> next chapter is going to probably take me forever, so don't hold your breath lmao. it'll get done probably???? but it may take some time since i have to do rikas backstory to do it (even tho i've intended on doing so for a while).
> 
> we may know who is next up, but when? who knows!! see yall on the flipside!


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